


Circle of Life

by Oloriel



Category: Kingdom of Heaven (2005)
Genre: M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oloriel/pseuds/Oloriel
Summary: Playing in the sandbox of Ridley Scott et al. No profit is derived from this work.
Relationships: Baldwin IV of Jerusalem/Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub | Saladin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Circle of Life

At nightfall, the still, dry heat of day finally gave away to a refreshing breeze that stirred the curtains and sent the lamps a-flicker. In the courtyard, the fountain bubbled merrily, masking the murmurs of Baldwin's shadowy physicians as they changed his bandages and inspected the ulcerated flesh beneath. This done, all but one took their leave , and the King of Jerusalem was left sitting up in his bed with a black-robed Saracen surgeon in a chair beside him.

"Long have your physicians visited me, but I never knew that you too, are a doctor, Saladin," the younger man commented. 

"I know a little of their art, Baldwin," Saladin replied. "I wished to see you, and nobody looks twice at an old physician,"

"I hope that I did not disappoint you- I don't think that there's much that will gladden the eye about my person," Baldwin said wryly, voice laced with laughter. "If you will, doctor, pour us some lemon sherbet each," 

He complied, then reached a hand out towards Baldwin's mask.

"Would you like me to-"

"The ties are on my left, under the hood," Baldwin stated, "But put on your gloves, doctor, and turn away your eyes,"

"I am not easily frightened." Saladin retorted, but still put on a pair of leather gloves. He almost managed to swallow an involuntary gasp when he looked up from the Apollonian mask in his hands.

"As you say," Baldwin mumbled sardonically, gazing at a point three feet to the left of his face. Saladin merely bowed his head. What was there to say? That the heavy silver mask fitted well, and a good estimate of what could have been? The curtains fluttered, and the bells rang. It was getting late, but not too late for him to prepare to leave.

"If you will be so kind as to feed me some sherbet?" the younger man broke the uncomfortable silence. Saladin moved to the bed with the cup, and tilted its rim against what remained of Baldwin's lips. He sipped at the drink, head cocked to one side as he swallowed- _so the sherbet does not spill out of the gaping hole where his right cheek used to be_.

"The Bishop broke his goblet the other day when he came to discuss the funeral arrangements with me," Baldwin said, in a voice men might use to talk about the weather or idle court gossip. “I would have dearly loved to see his fumbling myself," 

"Where will you be buried?" The older man asked, after taking a deep draught of the sherbet himself. 

"The church of the Holy Sepulcher," Baldwin sighed, covering the gap in his cheek with a hand. "I summoned the master mason and had him describe to me the for my sarcophagus yesterday." He paused and breathed deeply. "This gilt and painted and lead-lined marble repository for my embalmed body has on the outside a frieze of knights a-bristle with swords and lances, and me at their head astride a white horse," He rolled his eyes. "At least it has the benefit of being already made,"

"You make a fine jester," Saladin laughed.

"I'd rather be simply buried under a plainly inscribed slab, in a garden of fruitful trees and roses, " he shrugged. "Yet neither kings nor lepers can have much freedom in their choice of burial places." Baldwin sagged down against the cushions, suddenly exhausted. "Put the mask back, if you will. I shouldn't like to frighten Sybilla when she arrives," 

Saladin nodded, and took up the mask. "What sort of trees would you like to have in your garden?"

"Figs, pomegranates, grapes- those that bear sweet fruits and offer shade, so that others may enjoy both as I rest- but it won't be possible in these times, I don't think. I doubt peace will **ever** make Jerusalem her home."

"No, but I will see you remembered when I am Lord of Jerusalem." H pulled back the hood and laid Baldwin down. As he was about to say something more, three rapid knocks came from the door.

"I must go, I'm afraid," he rose up and pressed Baldwin's hand futilely. "Peace be to you, and may we meet again in better times,"

"And peace be to you too," came the soft reply.

………

"Baudouinet? Where do you think the pomegranate sapling should go?" a voice called from the backyard.

"In that corner, I think. Easier to net that way- and stop. Calling me. That, willya? You are not that much older than me," Baldwin emerged from the cool dimness of the laundry, one hand running through wavy blond hair and squinting under the bright noon sun.

"Very well, " Yusuf laughed and put down the sapling. "You got Bordeaux spray for the grapes, right?"

"I did," Baldwin came closer and plucked a stray leaf from Yusuf's shirt pocket. "And the hormone powder you wanted for producing yet another twenty clones of our most excellent and fruitful fig tree. How are we going to deal with this year's fruits and roses, Yusuf? And those saplings? We've almost filled our backyard up- well, to a sensible density, anyway,"

"Neighbors and friends and possibly the cheeky cockies at the park down the street," Yusuf answered glibly. "And drying. And candying-not the saplings, the fruits. And rose petal preserves. And homemade rosewater. And Ramadan and Christmas and Lunar New Year presents. Desserts, tea blends-there's always a way,"

"Ever resourceful," Baldwin laughed. "You are a man of many talents,"

"You and your honeyed words. Come, let's go have a bath. I'm dead tired from wandering in that giant greenhouse of a nursery, and we need to use up last year's rosewater before we start the stockpile again," Yusuf took his hand.

"Don't you want to save some of that for a special day or something? "

"Every day's a special day with you around," Yusuf retorted, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"And you dare critique me for flattery?"


End file.
